In Amongst the Thorns
by IronEclipse
Summary: Dying was easy. It was learning to live, accepting the natural act of breathing in and out for countless hours, that appeared to be the hard part. Would giant alien robots make the process considerably more challenging? Probably, but at the end of the day I wasn't inclined to think too deeply on the subject. Why you may ask? Simple — either way I was completely and utterly screwed.
1. Achillea

"Red is the colour of life. It's blood, passion, rage. It's menstrual flow and after birth. Beginnings and violent end. Red is the colour of love. Beating hearts and hungry lips. Roses, Valentines, cherries. Red is the colour of shame. Crimson cheeks and spilled blood. Broken hearts, opened veins. A burning desire to return to white." _  
_~Mary Hogan

* * *

Chapter One

 _Achillea_

My head hurt like a _bitch_.

The funny thing was, for the first time in my life, I wasn't even exaggerating or pretending in the name of some sort of ridiculous joke. My brain felt as though it had decided to rebel against my very skull. Echoes of pain seemed to radiate throughout my body, clinging to every nerve ending, muscle, and ligament that existed from my fingers to my toes. My hearing was muted—hell, my eyesight was even worse. Was there even such a thing as light? I couldn't remember.

Was it a concussion or a mere figment of my imagination?

I had no fucking idea.

Maybe I was dead?

I doubted it, but with a splitting migraine I sure wanted to be. There was nothing quite like a mind-piercing headache to put your life into perspective. The swear words popped out of my mouth before I could even control them. At least I knew that I could talk.

"God damnit," I managed to croak before another shot of agony trickled through my brain. That wasn't even the worst of it.

There was a slab of brick—heck, a huge segment of a wall looming over my shoulders. How it got there, I couldn't quite recall. It was a wonder that I had known it had collapsed in the first place. Call it a miracle or the tooth fairy; I didn't particularly care.

"Can someone fucking _help?_ " I hissed miserably. Pain spiked in my head and I could only groan in exasperation. No one was coming, but I felt better spitting out the words. It was like ripping a Band-Aid off. It was better to do it once and just get the suffering over with.

The ground suddenly lurched.

My head exploded.

" _Shit_."

That was when I had decided it was time to move. I scrambled to my feet, leaning against what I imagined was the giant chunk of concrete above my head. The slab shook dramatically, raining fine particles of cement down onto my head, hands, and hair. Grumbling angrily, my brain continuing to scream with discomfort, I pushed on the block, almost shrieking with pain when a sharp light pierced my eyes.

The sun of course. Could it have been anything else in the first place?

My footing was unstable, the ground continued to shake, and people were howling and shrieking, but I only considered that as another bonus. I wasn't alone. Morose, I knew—but I had never been one to cling to false pretences. The world wasn't some kind of science fiction story. The main characters, as noble and wondrous as they seemed to be, were simply assholes with a deranged morality complex. Hope was imaginary. Why else would I hate Star Wars?

Heat licked at my cheeks. An explosion rang out only moments later, somewhere to my left. Machine gun fire quickly followed suit. At one point in time I would have declared that as a close call, but after nearly being crushed by a wall, I was more than inclined to think otherwise. I simply threw myself at the ground. The pain in my head only seemed to increase from that point onwards.

Did I smash my head against the concrete? Was there a piece of glass or shrapnel imbedded into my skull? My vision blurred until the world was a muddled ball of colour smeared into oblivion. The screams around me, even the gunfire appeared to fade away, until all that remained was simply sensation. I could feel pebbles bounce and skip along the ground in tandem as everything shook, waves of heat rolling and smashing into my side—it was so _hot_. My skin burned. There was a cut in my arm. Blood was dripping on the ground. Was it mine?

Another stab of agony shot through my head. Red was the only colour I could distinguish.

Suddenly, out of nowhere at all, I simply knew what it felt like to die.

* * *

 _A/N:_ I felt a little nostalgic. Should I apologize?

Let's just say that I may have written a story for this fandom _eons_ ago, in a time when Earth was simply a little spec in outer space. The details have been lost to the ages, but I haven't dabbled in first person ever since. Until now, of course.

Yes, it's an OC— and _hell_ NO, it's not a frigging self-insert. I may be a little nerdy, but absolutely refuse to sink that low. I'm not the bloody Titanic.

Feel free to leave a comment! I'm working on a new writing style, so some criticism is always welcome. Sorry to all of my other readers; I tend to dwell in eight hundred fandoms all at once, so my focus is rarely in one place.

Bonus points to anyone who can figure out what the story titles mean!

~IronEclipse


	2. Adonis

"Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it."  
~J.K Rowling

* * *

Chapter Two

 _Adonis_

 _One. Two. Three. Four._

That was the number of walls surrounding me from left to right. It also happened to be the exact time my alarm would scream in my face in the morning. It was my least favourite digit, the age of my youngest cousin, and the exact number of seconds that currently remained until I lost my mind. I could feel my brain slowly deteriorating, the nerve endings twitching— _screaming_ for me to run out the door. Believe me, there was nothing more I wanted to do at the moment. If I had a choice, any kind of choice at all that didn't involve chatting about redundant shit, explosions, blood, or death, I'd take it in a heartbeat. Sadly, in the evolving sob story that was my life, nothing could have been more impossible. I was going to talk until my mouth fell off. Screw the therapist who thought that was a grand idea.

"You don't believe me."

It wasn't a question. Hell, it wasn't even a statement. At the end of the day it was an honest fact of life. Did I give a shit if some idiot thought otherwise? Sure, but there was no way I was going to let him know that.

"I've got a trained eye for this sort of thing Miss—"

"Joe," I spat with venom, "just Joe."

He only starred at me with distain. I could almost see the gears in his fat little head twirling and spinning in thought. I was more than certain he was attempting to come up with some logical reason as to why my head continued to ring, throb, and literally ache with pain. I wasn't a rocket scientist, but I knew he was going to fail.

"The root of this matter is simple to understand, _Joe._ It's the war inside of you that's causing the pain. It's time to fight those inner demons we've been discussing as of late."

Bullshit. I didn't know how much more idiocy I could deal with.

"I'm an atheist," I said, unmistakably lying.

It was impossible not to enjoy the tortured expression that slowly trickled across his features. Irritation rolled off of his body in waves. "It's a figure of speech."

"I'm not good with analogies. Never have been."

"Regardless," he practically hissed, "you must focus on _positivity_. Adverse emotions or energies will likely contribute to this headache you speak of."

My fingers twitched at the doubtful tone of his voice. "I'll work on it."

"We shall see."

For a self-proclaimed therapist, the man—whatever his name was, had the worst attitude I'd ever encountered in my entire life. It clung to him like a bad smell or taste, one that seemed to stick in the back of my mouth. It was more than clear that I didn't particularly enjoy his presence. There was no need to anyways, so why even bother to pretend otherwise?

"I expect that you'll need to schedule another appointment?" He was standing now, but that did nothing to change the situation in the least. He was far more threatening sitting down.

"I'm fairly _positive_ that I won't."

Watery eyes appraised me from above. "I doubt you want that on your military file."

I winced, taking great care not to look like I'd been shot. "Of course not."

The door opened and I scrambled to get out. No laughter managed to slip out of my mouth when he blocked the doorway lazily with one arm. He had never been a funny kind of guy.

"Some words of wisdom, Joe?"

He took my silence as permission to continue. I wished that he would just shut up.

"Try to take my advice."

* * *

My friend was picking me up. It was like clockwork; every Wednesday afternoon at precisely twelve o'clock, David would swing on by the counselling office in the downtown sector of Washington. I could tell when he was coming. There was no need to pop him a text message or use the phone. His truck, some pathetic red piece of crap, would come puffing and huffing down the main drag. It was hardly acceptable for the military, but I never said anything. He must have used it on whatever spare time he managed to conjure like some sort of wizard. I didn't know how he did it.

Whatever the reason, however he did it, I didn't particularly care. Regardless, I still managed to slide into his truck the same way. My hand whipped out faster than I could control it once the passenger door was slammed shut. I didn't mean to be a demanding jackass, but my brain was slamming against my skull like a freight train. It was unbearable.

"Now would be a good time, David."

His disapproving stare almost caught me off-guard. Lucky for me, I had a bit of practice ignoring its brutality.

"A little impatient, now are we?"

I snorted. "You'd be too if a battering ram decided to replace your brain."

"I didn't take you for the dramatic type," he sighed, sliding the key into the ignition. "You always said that it was an unrealistic kind of behaviour."

My hand fell into my lap, my fingers digging into the soft flesh of my palm. It did little to dull the ache that continued to define my life in every waking moment. I wanted to blame the weather—hell, the bloody air pressure, but I knew that the accident was to blame. Usually David threw some painkillers in my direction when we met up, but today he was a little inefficient. It wouldn't take long to kick his ass in gear.

"I take back whatever I said before. I was naïve."

"How about uncultured?"

I shot him a sceptical glance. "Never _that_. How would I ever maintain my reputation?"

"You don't have one."

Groaning, I slammed my head into the back of the seat. My headache flared up once again. "Thanks for reminding me."

David sighed again glanced at me from the corner of his eyes. "The appointment couldn't have gone that badly. I thought you said that they were improving?"

It was impossible not to snicker. "It's all about perspective. He's finally stopped asking about my sex life, so I'd call that an improvement."

"Really? Your sex life?"

Smirking, I roughly smacked a hand into his shoulder. The truck swerved, crossing the white lines into oncoming traffic, but I knew David didn't care. He was an accomplished driver, rarely fazed by dangerous situations. Whether it was the product of arrogance, overconfidence, or pure skill, I really couldn't care to tell.

"Someone's got their panties in a twist!"

"That somebody isn't me."

He chuckled, returning his gaze to the roadway. "Why your sex life of all things? What about…hell, you know, other shit?"

"You mean the attack?"

That seemed to dampen the mood. I wanted to curse, swear at my insensitivity and casual tone, but chose to keep my mouth glued shut. The honest truth of the matter was that I didn't want to care any more.

At least I thought that I didn't.

It was hard enough to sleep, _fuck_ —even think straight, all because of the violence that had occurred. Explosions still continued to rattle my brain day and night. It was an honest pain in the ass. What really ticked me off however, wasn't the lack of rest or quiet. No, it was how everyone seemed to avoid talking about the whole issue, simply imagining it didn't exist.

It was no small wonder that I hated my therapist.

"Joe—"

"It doesn't bother me," I grumbled, rubbing my temples with my fingertips. "Why do you think my shrink wants to talk about everything else? He keeps going on about repressed rage, for heaven's sake. Half the time he's the one driving me insane."

David rolled his eyes. I didn't miss the flicker of grief that hollowed out his gaze. "Something must bother you."

"Yeah," I managed to scoff in an attempt to brighten the mood, "my fucking head."

"How can the prescription not be working?"

The sudden topic change was a failure. I believed in human effort, so he received some bonus points in that area at least.

"How about you tell me, Doc? You're the one with the medical degree."

"Which I could very well lose," he protested under his breath.

I smacked his arm again. "You can't lose a God damn medical degree. Don't even try to bullshit me."

There was that disapproving glare again. "I can lose my position as your commanding officer. Don't tell me you forgot about that?"

"I have a migraine not memory loss, you bloody smart-ass."

A small grin pulled at the edges of his mouth. "Can't argue against that logic."

"I thought so."

Another sigh rattled inside the interior of the truck. I couldn't be that annoying. Obviously I was a slight pain in the ass, but something else had to be running through his head to be that antsy, stressed, or decidedly frustrated. I had a pretty good idea as to what. There was no way I was going to have a relaxing chat about it.

"I hate this under-the-counter shit."

Relief flooded through my body. "The grass isn't greener over here, you know."

"Jesus, I don't need your proverbial crap. You're no monk."

"Do I look bald to you?"

"Your hair is growing back, but I'm not blind," he snickered, swiftly parking the truck along the side of the road.

It was one thing to complain about sneaking pain medication to a fellow human being, but quite another to dabble in sensitive topics that involved surgery. It wasn't like I asked to get my skull bashed in by a concrete block. I didn't volunteer to get my hair shaved off or receive seventeen stiches in the back of my head. I wasn't Frankenstein and didn't appreciate the sudden humiliation or attention.

I grabbed my head defensively. "I didn't take you for an asshole."

David unclipped his seat belt and pulled something from the glove department. I prayed to God that it was his bloody intelligence. He'd certainly need it once I was done pounding his skull against the emergency brake. There was only so much I could deal with in one day. Still, I had to give him some credit; he could give as much as he could take.

"And here I thought you took me for a saint?"

"Wouldn't that be quite the sight?"

He chuckled. "We both know it would be a nightmare, but that's besides the point."

"Oh?"

The papers in David's hands shook as he waved them in my face. "I need you to sign these."

"Care to explain why?"

"I'm no saint," he began wryly, "but I'm good at making a deal."

My eyes narrowed in suspicion. "So you're the Devil?"

"Hardly. I've been going out on a limb for you, Joe. It's not easy getting the painkillers you need. I'm happy to help you out, but you could do at least one favour for me in return."

"You want me to sign my life away?" I grumbled.

"Let me put it this way," David began reluctantly, his eyes beginning to water just a tiny bit. "It's nothing James wouldn't do."

Again, out of nowhere, I remembered what it was like to die. Oh, how I hated the ironies of life.

* * *

 _A/N_ : Hello, world! This chapter has been completed for awhile, but it needed some revision. Probably still does, but hey, I'd like to say that it's pretty solid. Still, there's always room for improvement. The support has been awesome so far, so thanks everyone! You guys know that it's always appreciated!

To clear up some rather amusing questions:

No, the chapter titles have nothing to do with Twilight. If they did, well, I guess you guys could assume that I'm a little out of my mind. Great guess though! It gave me quite the laugh!

The main character of this story is a female. I didn't think it was necessary to describe her appearance. In my opinion, specifying gender is rather irrelevant. At some point in time the pieces would fall together and all would be revealed. Just go with the flow!

~IronEclipse


	3. Protea

"Life will give you whatever experience is most helpful for the evolution of your consciousness. How do you know this is the experience you need? Because this is the experience you are having at the moment."  
~Eckhart Tolle

* * *

Chapter Three  
 _Protea_

I felt the pain before it even hit me. It blossomed in my back, a powerful sensation that sent ripples of energy up and down my spinal cord. It was impossible not to bite back a cry of outrage. This was exactly why I didn't want to return to the base quite yet. There were simply too many idiots in the world—psychotic people who couldn't give one shit or another about social norms, respect, or even kindness in its purest form. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not always a bloody ray of sunshine, but at least I didn't lie. Hey, at least I wasn't an impulsive fool. If there was one thing I hated more than lying, it was thoughtless, brash, and ruthless behaviour.

Why was it so hard to act like an adult?

I honestly had no clue.

"Do you have a death wish?" I snapped, flinging a hand out to smack the dumbass that thought punching my back was a marvellous idea. That person, whoever it was, had a _bad_ thing coming.

" _Damn_ , Joey! Still feisty as ever!"

I twisted around. It was Andrew. Oh, there was nothing more I wanted to do than just slap him in the face. It was the least he deserved after the shit he decided to pull a few months ago. I didn't quite have the energy to forgive him. Obviously, I could have, but if I was to be perfectly honest—hell, even bloody frank, I didn't want to. Gone were the days where I threw out apologies like garbage on a fine Sunday afternoon. All I had left was dust.

"Personal space," I said slowly, "how many fucking times do I have to spell it out for you?"

A sly grin pulled at the edges of his mouth. He tapped the side of his head. "Bad memory."

"You say that every time!"

"I'm a little selective."

"A little?" I rolled my eyes, "find someone that wants to deal with your bullshit. I don't have the time."

"No, Joey! Don't be like that!" He gave me puppy dog eyes, the kind that would even make a grown man swoon. "I just missed my favourite partner in crime."

We used to be partners. All long time ago, when the world was bright, shiny, and filled with hope, we used to gallivant around the base together, hunting for opportunities to hit a higher payroll. At the time I was a kind of an eager beaver and Andrew seemed to enjoy the intensity of it all. Yes, he was an ignorant smartass, but it made life a little more fun.

Not any more, obviously.

I sent him a glare. "It's _Joe_."

"Joe— "

"I'm not your partner either," I managed to spit out angrily, my mind spinning with the need to run. "Hell, I'm not even your friend. You just want someone to stroke your bloody ego. Well guess what? It's not going to be me."

Andrew only smiled, rolled his eyes, and somehow managed to wrap an arm around my shoulders, stringing me along like some sort of pony. "I'm glad that you missed me too."

Huffing crossly, I attempted to push him away. " _Personal space_."

He smiled sadly before stroking the back of my head with a free hand. "Nice battle scar by the way—very sexy."

"Do I have to repeat myself?"

"You'd kill your own saviour?"

There it was, the elephant in the room. Sometimes, I was honestly too smart for my own good. Why else would he have even bothered to say that? The moron simply wanted me to recognize his so called 'good deed.' I didn't believe it was possible, but I couldn't care less about the miracle Andrew thought he had created—hell, even forged with his own bare hands. In my opinion, he had messed up. He had made a grave mistake, one that couldn't easily be forgiven or accepted with ease.

What mistake was that, you may ask?

Simple. He saved my God damned life.

"Do I look like I make idle threats?"

"Hey," he began with a grin still stretched across his face, "you're still breathing because of me. Be thankful."

I suppressed another scream of indignation. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, keeping me from socking him right in the jaw. If I had the power or inhuman strength I'd rip his bloody head off. After everything he really deserved nothing less. Still, despite my displeasure, I had the decency to keep my mouth glued closed. I had some practice saying nothing, after all.

"Don't you have work to do?"

"Yeah," he drawled, "I'm on security detail."

It was difficult—so physically and mentally demanding, but I managed to raise an eyebrow. "Like hell you are. I thought that you were still working with electronics?"

He slapped me in the back again. My fingers twitched. "A lot can change in three months, Joey."

I couldn't say the he wasn't wrong.

"I'm sure you know that better than anyone."

Smirking again rather wretchedly, Andrew jabbed a thumb in the northernmost area of the hanger. "I'm keeping a wide eye on that bad boy."

At the end of the day all I wanted to do was laugh, spill my guts out onto the floor, and snort for hours. If anything, I was thankful for the distraction. My patience was beginning to wear thin with every word that popped out of his mouth. He brought back too many memories, flickers of faded smiles, laughter, and secrets left unshared. I wasn't prepared to deal with the onslaught of it all.

Regardless, I'd hardly say that his assignment was a particularly challenging one. In the centre of the military hanger was some sort of silver vehicle. It was fancy as all hell and seemed to scream for attention, but all I could bring myself to do was shake my head in amusement. Andrew was truly an idiot. His skills—and I had to admit he had quite a few—were wasted on such a pointless and inane task. It was almost disappointed. I thought he would do more with himself.

"Why? You think it's going to run away?"

Disbelief filled his gaze. "That's a corvette stingray. Are you not amazed?"

A laugh finally managed to find its way out of my mouth. "I'm amazed that the military thought a car of all things deserved security surveillance."

" _What?_ "

"You heard me loud and clear."

"A stingray," he said again with a ring of doubt.

"There are also sharks, clown fish, squid, and jellyfish in the ocean. I don't care about those either."

He clearly didn't enjoy my sarcasm.

"Are you heartless?"

I stopped laughing and sighed in annoyance. "How about curious? Who owns the damn thing?"

Andrew shrugged and scratched the back of his head. "Probably some big wig outside of the city with a shit ton of money. Why else would I get paid to do this job?"

There was too much that I had forgotten in the time that I was away. Why did it always come back to money and recognition? Was there anything to be said for working for the joy of it? No wonder he liked the stupid car. It was everything he wanted. If working near it meant that he could enjoy the view, fine. At least he could see what could never be achieved.

"So you even know that it's stupid."

He even bothered to look offended. I wanted to laugh even more.

"At least I have a job. What are you even doing here anyways?"

I scowled. "None of your business."

"You made it my business by walking in here," he said almost lazily. "What if you're a threat? I'm on security detail after all. I got to make myself useful in these troubled times."

"Seriously?"

I was treated with a sly sideways glance. "Technically I can take you into custody if you promote some sort of threat. You did issue a death threat, which I'll have to recognize formally, of course."

Was I cursed or did I have the worst kind of luck in the entire world? I barely managed to hold back a growl. Instead I clenched my fists, ignoring how my nails dug painfully into the soft flesh of my palms. It was nothing compared to the dull ache that continued to rattle my brain. My prescription was still shitty and I was beginning to run out of the painkillers Daniel had given me a few days before. I was eating the things like candy, so it wasn't entirely surprising that my supply was starting to run low. Whatever the case, the irritation I was feeling did little to silence the need to break Andrew's nose.

"I hate you."

"Admit it, Joey—you just love me to death."

"The key word here is death," I grumbled, "just thought you needed a reminder considering your bloody memory loss."

He snickered, but I could see that the statement wounded him. "Your positive attitude is charming, sweetheart."

I breathed deeply, forcing myself to expel all of insults and curses with a nice breath of air. "I'm here for a favour. That's all."

"Still off duty?"

"Would I still be wearing these clothes if I wasn't?"

His appraising gaze was almost sinful. I forgot how much of a little shit Andrew could be. He liked to put on a farce and pretend that he was out of the loop, but that was a lie. He wasn't stupid. He knew that I was on medical leave. It was a fact at this point. I could really only wonder what his true motivations were with all of the invasive questions and touchy attitude. It really put me off.

"You clean up well, but you're missing a few details. Like, for instance, _why_ you're here."

"A favour for Daniel," I ground out in frustration.

"Our lovely commander? How delightful!"

I cringed. "Shut up. It's not what you think. I'm here for an interview and that's it. After that it's back to home and away from you."

"What?" Andrew wined pathetically, "That's not fair!"

"It's a stupid interview for some government affiliate that I'm not qualified for and know nothing about," I almost yelled in his face. "That's it. So you can remain in the limelight for all I care. It's what you want after all."

"Hey, no need to be so cruel!" He wailed, his voice cracking in what seemed like true despair.

I bit my lip, scowled, and simply attempted to wave him away. "I'm hardly the evil one here. You've wasted my damn time and now I'm late."

Andrew scoffed. "You're never late."

"I will be if I have to deal with more of your bullshit," I moaned before slamming my head into my hands. "Can't you just let me go? "

"Yeah, yeah—you can go. Just two more things before you scamper off to your little play date."

" _What?_ " I said, stretching out each syllable like an angry child. I couldn't help but cringe once again when his fingers brushed my shoulder for the third time.

"Call me if you need anything, okay?"

"No."

As per usual, Andrew ignored my blatant response by continuing to speak. God, he reminded me of my therapist.

"I didn't get to tell you this, but I'm sorry," he said softly, ripples of sadness undulating throughout his voice, "about everything."

Shock filtered throughout my system, although the tears never came. I had tried to cry ages ago, of course, but it proved to be a fruitless endeavour. My eyes burned though, so I considered that a change. I was uncertain as to whether it was welcomed however; sobbing signified a kind of weakness, one that I had yet to deserve. Still, I wanted to think that Andrew's half-assed apology was legitimate. I wasn't going to show it though. No, he had yet to earn that pleasure.

Biting my lip, I ignored the hopeful gaze that shifted through his eyes, and simply turned on one heel and slowly began to walk away.

"So am I."

* * *

Every office or professional area on base were very much unlike the hangers that were strewn around in every nook or corner. Those areas were large and dim lit; this space screamed modern and sophisticated. It was clean, bright, and had little in terms of furniture and knick-knacks, save for the well-shaven man perched delicately in the centre of the room. I wasn't completely sure that he could be counted as an object of sorts, but I wasn't inclined to think to deeply on the subject. He looked nice enough, albeit a tad tired from all of the interviews he surely organized and followed through with. I didn't envy him at all.

How many people were sitting outside? I had lost count before entering the room. In my opinion I knew far too many of the people sitting around the hallway. Most of them were officers and low-level commanders, the kind of folks that I didn't have the opportunity to work with on a daily basis. Sure, I could list off a few names and experiences, but after all of the time I had spent bouncing around the base everything was a bit blurred.

"Josephine Harrow I presume?"

I didn't notice a badge or insignia plastered across his chest, so I didn't bother with any formalities. He wasn't indebted to me and as far as I could tell, I had nothing to do with him. It was impossible not to grimace however; I hated when people chose to use that name. Sighing, I rubbed the side of my head. My headache seemed to be getting worse. I wanted to blame him, but that would only be irrational.

"Joe is fine."

He nodded, but suddenly seemed more tired than he was before. I could hear a faint buzzing coming from the earpiece that was perched along his ear. No doubt, someone was talking on the other end of the line. I couldn't help but feel annoyed at the whole situation. The only thing keeping me here was David. I couldn't care less about the bloody interview. Did I not deserve this man's full attention for five minutes?

"Do you have a name?"

Surprise, maybe even a hint of displeasure filtered across his features. "Lennox."

I guess I didn't deserve a first name. On another day this would have been more fascinating, but I was done. I had reached the end of the line. Andrew's antics were tolerable—heck even amusing at some points, once you got past the stupidity of it all. This? There was no longer a bone in my body that wanted to deal with time wasting of any kind.

Sighing and pinching the bridge of my nose, I moved to my feet. It looked like Lennox wanted to say something, but there was no way I was going to let him. If he wasn't going to control the situation, I would.

"Permission to speak, sir?"

He muttered something under his breath, likely to the mystery person speaking through the headset. Raising an eyebrow, he nodded slowly.

"Look," I said rather calmly, "I'm just going to make this really easy for you. I'm not qualified for this position at all."

Lennox sent me a doubtful stare. "Why do you think that is?"

"I've worked at this base for quite a few years now. The people out there," I paused to point at the doorway, "largely specialize in mechanics and medicine. I'm not qualified for either of those things."

There was a brief moment where I could only hear the shuffling and shifting of paper. It didn't take very long, maybe even seconds before he whipped out a sheet and waved it in my face. "This says that you are."

I scoffed. "That's a lie."

Practically humming in amusement, Lennox traced the file with his fingertips. "It says here that you have plenty of experience in both of those fields."

 _David_.

I didn't know what he thought he was doing, but at the end of the day it wasn't helping me out. It only served to drive me to insanity, worsening the incessant ache in my head that refused to diminish. I didn't know what was up with my brain today; my headache had been pretty manageable before, but walking into this room seemed to change things. I needed more medication.

"Minimal, if anything at all," I said, continuing to rub my temples.

"You're a foot soldier."

I sighed. "I entered the military as a foot soldier, but I never really get to do that job."

All I received was a blank stare.

"I'm a patch."

"Unfortunately I'm unfamiliar with the term."

I couldn't help but smile wryly. "I do the shit that no one wants to. Clean bathrooms, take the garbage out, and take rookies for a run—fascinating stuff like that. Sure, a little mechanical work gets thrown in the mix, maybe even some first aid, but nothing substantial."

"So you're not unqualified then?"

I glared at his pretty face. "I have my hand in more than one cookie jar. It's nothing particularly notable."

His eyes travelled back down to the file. "You come highly recommended."

"Conflict of interest," I stated smoothly, "My CO enjoys a bit of torture now and again."

"Did he tell you what this position was for?"

My gaze travelled to his eyes. I straightened my back and met his stare dead on, trying not to grin like a smartass.

"Nope."

The buzzing in his earpiece started up again. I could feel more pain trickle across my forehead. It was challenging, but I managed to smother any feelings related to irritation before it came back to bite me in the ass. As it currently stood, I was already cutting it close with the relaxed commentary and conversation. Lennox was a stranger to me and I wasn't quite sure how much he could take. I shifted uncomfortably in my weird, vertical position. At least I knew that the man had a very notable stare. He was pinning me in place, forcing me to acknowledge that I had his complete and utter attention. It appeared as though I was no longer a write-off.

Karma was definitely a bitch.

"You're honest," Lennox finally said, slowly leaning back in his chair, his arms cradling his head.

"You thought that I was lying the whole time?"

He looked away and dramatically released a loud puff of air. " _Brutally honest_."

The suspense was killing me. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I should be forthcoming as well."

I immediately recoiled, wishing that he would fall right on his bloody ass. "About what?"

Lennox looked at me briefly before his attention returned to the papers scattered along the office desk. He began to stack them all in a neat pile, the edges remaining in a firm, straight line. "I'm not the one interviewing you, Miss Harrow. I'm not the person looking to hire anyone. I'm just the messenger."

If that didn't sound like something from a sci-fi movie, I didn't know what did anymore.

"Okay?" I said, dragging out my response in confusion.

"You can expect a call at some point. I can't confirm when it will be, but prepared."

"I don't understand."

More static sounds exploded from the headset. Lennox met my gaze and only smiled grimly. "You got the job."

* * *

 _A/N:_ Here's a bit of an early update for you guys! I'm working out of province for the summer and will be headed to the east coast, so the Internet situation may be a little dicy. It exists of course, but I have yet to figure out how it will work.

Besides that, I wonder who the silver vehicle is? I really have no doubts that you guys will know!

Until then, please enjoy this chapter! It's definitely been one of my favourites to write so far. Also, feel free to leave a comment or review! Tell me what your favourite part has been so far! Maybe the best line?

Ciao, my friends.

~IronEclipse


	4. Convolvulus

"Remember tonight, for it is the beginning of always." _  
_~ Dante Alighieri

* * *

Chapter Four

 _Convolvulus_

The smell of pine-sol, air-freshener, and vinegar assaulted my nose like some sort of chemical barrage. I had lost the will to gag hours ago. Now I only had the energy to stare blankly at the closest wall, cursing the irregularities and evils of the world. It seemed ironic that my thoughts would dwell in such a dark place, considering that my vision was dominated by white. The floors were white, the walls were white—hell, the fucking blankets, pillows, and medical equipment were white. Needless to say, I was being mocked. I would have laughed, but hospitals only condoned silence.

All in all, I just really wanted to scream. It would have been easy to shatter the stillness that sought my company like an old sweater, but unfortunately I had an ounce of self-control.

"You shouldn't have come here. It's late."

I flinched, but didn't bother to slip a glance at the doorway. There was only one person I knew who would choose to creep into this shithole during the darkest hours of the night. Closing my eyes, I pretended that David was simply an illusion, an ill-fated omen that only existed once I set eyes on it. He would be significantly easier to deal with in that way. Regrettably, life was not so simple. Belief could not match the power of the unknown.

"That's the understatement of the year," I managed to sigh, surrendering any hope of remaining silent in the first place. A part of me wanted to be pleased, but the experience wasn't on my own terms. It wasn't like I wanted to be in some random hospital room in the first place.

"God damn it, Joe," David said before rubbing his eyes. "You should be celebrating, not sitting here like this."

I knew that he was referencing my newly acquired job, but didn't have the energy to complain. If there was one thing I didn't want to talk about, it was that recent kick to my karma and luck. "I got the call four hours ago. How could I not come?"

David pulled up a chair quietly to my left. "He's not your responsibility."

If there was one thing in the world I despised, it was that little, seemingly insignificant statement. It made me feel like a child, a toddler being scolded for shrieking or simply screaming for far too long. As much as I wished to be young and naïve once again, that was not a possibility. I was supposed to be an adult. I could make my own decisions, regardless of the implications, especially those that David would not understand. If I wanted to sit in a chair beside some sick, helpless, and comatose human, I would. There was nothing stopping me, nothing at all.

"He is today," I said, meeting his disappointed gaze with a blank stare of my own, "I couldn't just leave him all alone."

"I was on my way here."

Staring at the ceiling, a barely managed to hold back a sigh filled with distaste. "You have a division to command and I'm on military leave. What seems like the easiest option?"

David pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's not about what's easy, Joe."

"Life isn't easy."

"Prove it then. Stop coming here."

My chest heaved and I forced back an angry retort. "No."

It was impossible not to hear the disappointment in David's words. "Are you a fucking masochist?"

I couldn't help but be a sassy little shit. "Wrong context."

The sidelong glance said more than I was willing to hear. I wanted to stay calm, somehow maintain control of my emotions, but I could sense the ball of annoyance in my chest growing with every second that passed. Shifting uncomfortably, I managed to remain seated. How long that would last however, I couldn't care to tell. For one thing, I knew that it was impossible for me to snap at David or become terribly vexed. The man was far too involved with my personal life at this point. My level of sarcasm would increase of course, but I would never dare rip or tear into him like some sort of dog. My level of self-awareness was too high for that.

"Just get out," David sighed, tiredly waving a hand towards the door, "before I make you get out."

I couldn't help but pout sadly. "I'm trying to be useful."

"Be useful and celebrate for God's sake. Hell, have a drink on me for all I care." I cringed when a few dollar bills were forced into my hand. "Find a bloody corner to get drunk in. Find a man that can actually move. Just stop _trying_ to be useful."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I managed to say, sucking back the wave of hurt that seemed to overwhelm both my head and heart. I didn't like what he was implying.

David waved a hand in the air. "Be happy, Joe. Let me handle my own brother for a change."

For a moment I didn't have the ability to talk or even formulate a simple set of words. "I'm perfectly happy."

"You're a miserable little shit."

I glared angrily. "You're the one making me miserable."

He actually had the nerve to laugh. "Good. Maybe it'll give you some common sense."

I peered up at David and attempted to force out a spirited grin, a smile that commanded a sense of authority and power, but I no longer had the ability to act in such a way. The stupidity of the day was getting to me. Fatigue pulled and pried at my eyelids, a yawn threatened to pop out of my mouth—it was clear that I was going to topple over at any moment. I was a natural disaster just waiting to occur. I absently wondered who all of the casualties were going to be.

Shaking his head David placed a calloused hand on my shoulder. "Haul your ass out of here. Please?"

Grumbling, I barely managed to climb to my feet. I just wanted to curl in a ball on the floor, stare directly at the ceiling, and forget about the hospital bed that contained a man whose name I had been so desperately trying to avoid for months. "Alright. Just promise me you'll let me know if anything happens."

"Joe—"

"That's my only condition. Take it or leave it."

"Hell, I thought I was the one good at making a deal," he breathed before scratching the back of his head. "You're the bloody devil."

"You can keep that title for yourself. I'll remain as a free agent." I said, my fingertips lingering on the doorframe. I was surprised that I had finally managed to move further than a few centimetres.

"How are you always so unbelievably rude?"

I paused, barely considering David's causal tone of phrase. "I just stopped giving a shit."

The look in David's eyes said everything that I didn't want to say. I cringed, but didn't stop moving towards the door. Even if I did—even if I managed to pause for a second, he would be on my ass in a heartbeat. At this point I knew that there was only so much negativity he could take. I couldn't say that I was particularly surprised, but hell, I sure wished that I was for once in my life.

* * *

The stairwell was where I completely lost my shit. Deep down I always knew that it was possible, but somehow I had categorized a mental breakdown into an event, a _thing_ that was simply impossible and non-existent. Of course I was wrong. I knew that I was wrong the moment my ass collided with the concrete floor. Groaning, I clutched my head and pulled my knees right up to my chest. Thoughts spilled out of my mind like rainwater and all I could do was slam a fist into the floor to deal with the onslaught of it all.

How did I become like this?

Why was my mental state as weak as a bloody eggshell?

I hated David.

God, I hated how I had become so attached to a man that was going to die.

A forced laugh somehow gurgled out of my mouth. A fragmented image of the hospital room came to my mind. Yes, I loved a man that was going to keel over and suddenly die. At one point in my life, loving anything that lived, breathed, and even moved was outright doubtful. My parents and family held a special place in my heart, but a man? A creature of the opposite sex? That was simply impossible, just like a rainstorm on a sweltering summer day. I was used to parading around by myself, living the chapters of my life all by my lonesome. The years trickled by without so much of a hint of romance and I legitimately didn't care.

I sniffed pathetically. My worldview changed when James waltzed into my life with the intensity of an atomic bomb. He burned me with his fire; the stupid laughing gaze within his eyes, the way he walked as though every step _meant_ something, his coy remarks, his unrelenting forgiveness, the way his eyebrow twitched when his was itching for a fight—we spent hours together. He was more than my assigned combat partner. James was my best friend.

Did he know that? Sure.

Did he know how much I loved him? Probably not. At this point he would never know. After being crushed and snapped like a fucking toothpick, he wouldn't know anything ever again.

My chin fell to my chest. I breathed deeply in an attempt to calm myself. My body was shaking like a leaf; I could barely tell if it was in anger or absolute fear. At the end of the day I suppose it didn't entirely matter. After months of recuperation I still didn't have a handle on my emotions. My stupid therapist was right yet again. I hated to admit it of course, but his words always seemed to ring true, even if they sounded like complete and utter bullshit half of the time. I had to face my 'inner demons' and the fucking 'turmoil inside of my soul', so to speak. For some reason a laugh bubbled up and out of my chest.

I'd cross a highway with my eyes closed before I ever chose to do that willingly.

I could have a moment of weakness, but never in a million years would I throw myself into the raging abyss that contained my deepest of thoughts. That was a suicide mission with no clear ending. The chances of winning a gamble against that were little to none. In other words, the odds were absolute shit.

A ghost of a sad smile touched my lips as I went to rub my nose. Surprisingly I didn't cry, but I was _very_ close. Too close, I managed to think before bringing a hand near my line of sight. I raised my eyebrows thoughtfully. The money David had practically thrown in my face was still intact. It was a bit crumpled and frayed along the edges, but could still be put to some good use. There was no way in hell that I was going to celebrate the fabled success of this evening however. I had better plans.

Sucking back my pride, I slowly clambered to my feet, using the wall as a kind of support beam. I still swayed around like a drunken forty-something in the middle of a mid-life crisis, which was a bit disappointing when I thought about it. I sighed. Oh well. Fortunately there were better things to worry about in the world. My lack of composure could not be one of them. Mumbling crudely under my breath, I managed to find some random windowsill to sit on. I was greeted with a cool gust of fresh air. I didn't know why there was a window in the stairwell, but I was happy about it, content to know that there was a whole world in front of me that wasn't always dark and devoid of life. That is, of course, until I managed to get a good look at my view.

What was outside you may ask?

I wiped my nose for the hundredth time and swore. I didn't know that my phone was in my back pocket, but I managed to whip out the little piece of shit like it was a candy bar on Halloween. The next thing I knew it was plastered to my ear.

"Hello?"

I bit back a scowl at Andy's drowsy tone of voice. He was the last person I wanted to call, but it wasn't like a really had a choice. "Sleeping on the job already?"

There was a random puff of air. "Joey? _Damn_ , you sound all hot and bothered. Having fun tonight are you?"

" _No_ ," I barely managed to hiss, my nails digging into the edge of the window. "Far from it actually."

He seemed to wake up a bit after that. "Really? That's rough. I was actually getting a bit exited there."

"My death threat is still out in the open," I snapped before pinching the bridge of my nose. I honestly could not recall how I managed to deal with Andy's antics for so long in the first place. I must have been blind and deaf half of the time.

I could picture a satisfied smirk creeping across his stupid face. "Huh? Sorry, but my memory is still a bit fuzzy, darling. Care to remind me?"

"Stop being an asshole. We both know that you remember quite well."

He paused for a moment, drawing in what appeared to be a weary breath before continuing to speak. "I'm the asshole? You're the one calling me at the crack of bloody dawn."

I couldn't help but gesture out the window, my hand shaking madly. "Your fucking dream car seems to be taking a vacation. I thought that you'd like to know it was checking out the lovely views of West Virginia this fine evening. Last I remember it was supposed to be sitting in a military base outside of town."

Something crashed in the background. "What! There's no chance in hell, Joey. No fucking chance—"

"Well you've won the bloody lottery apparently. I'm staring right at the thing."

There were more jumbled and muffled sounds coming from Andy's end of the line. "It's in the hangar right down the hall. I just checked everything out."

"While you were sleeping?"

"I was resting my eyes," he whined, but there was an edge to his voice I wasn't used to hearing.

"Good luck telling your superior officer that."

I didn't get a warning of any sort. Andy suddenly swore forcefully and all I could do was attempt to hold my phone as far away from my face as possible. It did little to prevent damage. My delayed reaction wasn't fast enough. My left ear was ringing; practically letting me experience what I'd like to think an earthquake would sound like on the other side of the planet. I could feel my brain just split open from the intensity of it all. And here I thought my headache was getting marginally better. What an utterly horrid lie.

"Jesus Christ!" I yelped, cringing when my voice continued to echo rather loudly throughout the stairwell. "Are you trying to unleash the bloody kraken or make me deaf? I honestly can't tell the difference."

" _Joe_."

I faltered, my breath skipping a beat at Andy's uncharacteristic seriousness. I didn't let it fool me however; I knew that he enjoyed silly mind games. " _What?_ "

"Where are you?"

"On the other side of the planet."

What could have been a strained sigh, another frustrated set of words, or maybe some kind of groan cracked throughout the speakers. " _Where?_ "

I actually wanted to laugh. "We might as well be on different sides of the planet if you think I'm going to tell you anything. Deal with the consequences of your own stupidity."

"You don't understand. It's important."

"So is my privacy."

He grumbled angrily. "This is _really_ important."

I wanted to smash my head into a wall. Biting my lip and glancing at all of the bills scrunched up in my hand, I sighed. "Medstar Washington Hospital Center. The Corvette is some parking lot off of First Street. I won't be there."

I could almost see the realization slither across his facial features. He knew exactly what I was doing for the past four hours now. "Joe—"

My phone snapped shut with a small click. I shoved it back in my pocket and glared out the window, staring at the silver stingray like it was the most ridiculous and annoying thing in the entire world. There was no doubt that it was the same one that was perched innocently in the military hangar. Why? The likelihood of another Corvette sitting around in Washington was basically little to none. I don't know what kind of dumbass would take a vehicle retained by the military out for a joyride without illicit permission, but whoever they were, God—they were going to be in complete and utter shit. It would almost be nice to see the outcome of the whole situation, but I was really tired of hospitals, the colour white, annoying people, and depressing conversations that simply made me want to roll over and die.

I wanted to drink. I wanted to be drunk. Hell, I just wanted to forget. Clutching the dollar bills like they were some sort of lifeline, I began to trudge down the stairs, ignoring the little voice in the back of my head that said I was being watched.

* * *

 _A/N:_ I typically write sporadically. I know that it can be annoying, but life is like a demanding four year-old child that constantly screams in my face for attention. Sometimes I just have to give it the light of day. Even if it's annoying, even if you want to bash my brains out, just keep in mind that I always try my best to get a chapter going. This chapter was heavy with character development, so sorry if it's a tad boring. It's not my favourite, but it gets the job done.

Thanks for all the support guys! The response to this story has been fairly positive so far, so thank you all so much! Enjoy!

~IronEclipse


	5. Anemone

"Truth is not fully explosive, but purely electric. You don't blow the world up with the truth; you shock it into motion."  
 _~Criss Jami_

* * *

Chapter Five

 _Anemone_

It was too early to be awake. Even moving at this time of the morning was completely and utterly _wrong_. My eyeballs were barely even open at this point in time. It only appeared as though I was alive, truly functioning like a normal human being so people believed that I had my shit together. For appearances sake it needed to look as though I wasn't a monster that just came crawling from some hellish abyss. Too bad I couldn't pull off that all-time favourite look today. I looked like I'd just swallowed a shot of tequila after running a bloody marathon.

I suppressed a rather abrupt laugh. Too bad that description was right on the dot. It was an absolute reflection of both my mental and physical state. Needless to say, I'd taken David's stupid advice and hit up a rather large handful of bars last night. The details were blurry and hardly worth any sort of importance, but when it came right down to it I had become drunk, so horribly drunk that I couldn't even tell left from right. I don't even know how I got back to my apartment. Hell, I don't remember anything at all, save for some asshole of a man that stopped me from planting my face right into the sidewalk. My memories were as dark as my mindset, which wasn't exactly a bad thing. I didn't really want to recall what exactly I'd done in the early hours of the morning when the world was still fast asleep.

It wasn't fun.

I didn't celebrate.

At the end of the day I just felt like a stupid piece of shit. I should have just gone home, had a cup of tea, and called it for the night. Why? If I'd done that, I would have been prepared for the phone call I received at 6:00 this morning, the one where some grumpy old fart told me about a meeting I was supposed to have with my new employer.

Were there any details or any clues as to what my new position was? Nope. I still knew absolutely nothing, which was really all David's fault when I stopped to think about it. He was the crazy idiot that thought I was fit for this position, whatever it was. I should have declined to follow through with his deal in the first place. What kind of reckless person chose to partake in a job interview without knowing anything about the position at all? That seemed like the kind of thing a teenager would do for a twenty-dollar bill. Was I honestly that foolish?

"I hate myself," I managed to mutter, before suppressing a rather undignified belch.

A few people sent me some questioning glances. A caught a handful of crude grins and odd eyebrow raises shoot my direction as well, so at least I knew that I wasn't going to make any handy new friends in a pinch. Serves me right for losing my God damn mind. At least I had some privacy while my little mental break down occurred. In a giant room filled with military personnel of all shapes and sizes, I would have been more than a tad embarrassed. Humiliated would have been more like it.

"Alright everyone," someone said rather sternly, "enough chatter. We got a meeting to attend to and there doesn't need to be any unnecessary interruptions."

Silence descended upon the room. It was more of a large conference hall, rather than some sort of dingy room. Don't get me wrong however; the space was far from filled. There were approximately twenty, maybe thirty people, all of which seemed prepared to listen to a long lecture or congratulatory speech concerning our recent employment. I doubted that anyone else really knew what was about to go on, but that didn't stop people from pretending to look entirely interested, hell—even consumed with the individual standing at the front of the room instead of being completely worried, concerned, or confused. I was struggling to simply keep my eyes open long enough to conclude that the person talking was none other then Lennox, the pretty-boy with the non-existent table manners. How fitting.

I heard a door slam from the back of the room. I looked up towards the ceiling and fought back an overly dramatic wince of pain. Right in the center of my forehead, in a spot where I could easily point a finger to, was where my headache existed. I was currently using Tylenol to fight off the pain seeing as David was more than a little reluctant to supply me with more, let's say _intense_ mediation. For a while I thought it was actually working, but returning to the military base seemed to haul its effectiveness back twofold. Normally, I would have just dealt with the agony and called it a day, but with a wicked hangover everything surrounding me seemed to be amplified, especially sounds that were once remotely mundane, a door closing being one of them.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, my attention eventually returned to Lennox. His gaze was unsurprisingly directed at the back of the room, the look in his eyes annoyed and clearly frustrated. "Sit down."

At this point there was nothing stopping me from releasing a smug grin. After the stunt he preformed a few days ago I was just waiting for something to knock him right on his ass. If that happened to be some random late person, I was all on board. Rubbing my forehead, I shot a glance backwards, surprised to find that the idiot who had created a mild scene had decided to sit right behind me.

I immediately didn't like him.

He was blonde, tall, and roguish, surely a catch with the female crowd, but that wasn't what rubbed me the wrong way. No, it was how he met my curious glance with what appeared to be a demonic stare. I may have looked like I had come crawling out of hell itself, but this man was the devil incarnate. I had done absolutely nothing and the way he was glaring at me suggested that I had literally stabbed him right in the back. It was annoying and it simply wiped the grin right off of my face. Lennox had every right to be irritated at this little shit, which was actually a huge disappointment.

"Is everyone ready to finally listen now?"

A few grunts echoed throughout the room. I tapped a few fingers on the desk I was occupying and sent another weary glance over my shoulder—yeah; the blonde demon was still poking holes through my back.

"Good. As you may already know, you have all been successfully hired as new military employees. I would offer my congratulations, but I don't feel as though that would be entirely appropriate."

Was this man always the bringer of bad news? He was a walking angst machine for Christ's sake. I don't think it was even remotely possible for him to act like a relatable human being. My thoughts stilled as a paper was thrust into my hands. I barely got to glance over it before Lennox continued to drone on tonelessly. Frowning, I felt a foot nudge the back of my chair.

"What you are all about to hear will not leave this room," he said before gesturing towards the door. "You're all welcome to leave, but I assure you, this will not be the only opportunity you will have to do so. Entering this room does not guarantee that you will remain here. The positions you have all accepted are not for everyone."

Someone coughed loudly. A foot, likely the same one as before, slammed the back of my chair once again. I could feel the vibration from the impact travel up my spine and burrow it's way straight into my brain. Sucking in a deep breath of air, I tried to ignore the pain that blossomed across my skull. Ever since Mr. Asshole waltzed into the room my headache was becoming considerably worse. I couldn't decide if it was the lack of medication, my hangover, the early morning, or simply his continual chair kicking. I clenched the paper in-between my hands, completely disregarding its contents. It was only a matter of time until I figured it out.

Lennox cleared his throat and sighed with difficulty. "You are all currently engaged in a program created by the American government for one sole purpose—to protect countries and people from a growing global threat, one that does not originate from our planet."

Some random person choked on what appeared to be a glass of water. " _What?_ "

A grim smile slipped across Lennox's mouth. "N.E.S.T. is an organization that works alongside _organism_ s, if you will, that are not from Earth."

The paper resting between my hands ripped in half. I could feel a few eyes land on me, but I could honestly give less of a shit at the moment. The words popping out of Lennox's mouth were too fucked up to be true. _Aliens?_ Was he honestly suggesting that bloody aliens, little twisted creatures from E.T. and Star Wars existed? Shaking my head in complete and utter disbelief, I actually managed to laugh. It was cut short by another vicious kick to the back of my chair.

"The attacks in Mission City were real," Lennox stated, somehow managing to turn on a projector and gesture to a massive flood of images, all of which showed everything but terrorists and human activity. "Any information regarding the genuine aspects of this event were blocked and censored from media outlets. The details of this attack are sensitive in nature and are completely classified."

Giant robots.

 _Giant fucking robots._

That was what I was staring at. My brain could hardly process the information. Thank God that there were pictures; otherwise I would have been completely left in the dark. At this moment in time I could hardly distinguish up from down considering my recent activities. Hell, it was hard enough comprehending the fact that the dumbass sitting behind me continued to kick my seat despite the insanity that was occurring at the front of the room. How could he disregard the seriousness of the situation? Every person here was just told that everything we knew was a lie, that the government, the country we chose to work for, was keeping secrets—the kind that had the ability to move mountains and change the world. Did he think it was funny? Did he think this was some kind of joke?

"I understand that this information is not easy to take in," Lennox droned, with only hint of sympathy, "but it's real. The threat these creatures can create is real. That is why we must work together to protect humanity and each other."

"You said that we work with these… _aliens?_ " Another person tuned in.

Lennox winced, the features on his face contorting in mock agony. " _Autobots_ is the correct term you're looking for, my friend. N.E.S.T is a defense force that works alongside the Autobots in order to eradicate Decepticons."

"There are _two_ groups?"

Lennox's mouth twitched. "An unfortunate side effect of war, I'm afraid."

Unfortunate? Receiving a screwed up present from your Grandmother was unfortunate. Tripping on a moving bus was unfortunate. Two groups of aliens fighting some kind of intergalactic war was just _fucked up_ , hell, even terrifying, but not bloody unfortunate. I dramatically released a puff of air and watched as Lennox continued to answer hoards of absolutely random questions. It was far from a struggle—in fact, he seemed pretty relaxed in retrospect, as if the whole concept of an alien species wasn't troubling at all. His attitude was bloody amazing, but I wasn't about to fall to my knees and pray for his guidance. That was something I had to figure out on my own.

Not even making a sound, a rested my head on the table and simply listened to all of the chaos. There was more commentary on a war, the attacks that occurred the year before, and the government's efforts to remain involved with the whole mess. He mentioned something about advanced technology and vehicles, but the information didn't exactly stick.

Why you may ask?

Yes, I was definitely in shock of course, but the constant vibrations creeping up my chair? Yeah, those were beginning to drive me absolutely insane. Every few minutes the blonde demon behind me would lightly kick my seat with his foot. At first it was hesitant, almost as if he was testing to see how much bullshit I could deal with, but now? It felt like I was driving a fucking bumper car. I didn't come to this event to participate in some sort of hellish amusement park ride. With a hangover I had only planned to survive this meeting, not actively engage in it.

Scowling, I pinched the bridge of my nose, jumping when another kick jolted my chair. There were two possible ways in which this situation could go down. The first was the relatively passive option; the one where I remained seated and pretended to be in tune with Lennox's little pep talk. The second, well, that was where shit theoretically got a little violent. That was the option where I chose to confront the idiot sitting behind me.

I didn't have to think twice. Unfortunately for everyone in the room, I already knew what option I was going to choose.

Shuffling forward, I slowly dragged my chair as close to the desk as humanly possible. As I inched my way forward, I couldn't help but notice how Lennox's gaze had migrated across the room to land on my mildly drunken figure. It was clear that he had a nose for detecting mischief. His stare wasn't going to stop me however; I had already made a clear decision. Forcing out a pitiful version of an apologetic smile, I sucked in a deep breath and abruptly shot backwards, the back of my chair ramming into the front of blonde man's desk. The feeling of satisfaction that overwhelmed my senses at the resulting collision was simply delightful. His cry of absolute pain and dismay was even better.

"Harrow!"

I didn't even flinch. I merely met Lennox's angry gaze with a completely blank stare. Of course I expected to get yelled at. Having a hangover didn't mean that I had suddenly morphed into a moron over the span of a few hours.

Lennox jerked a thumb towards the door. "Get out. I don't need the behaviour of a five year-old interrupting this meeting."

Several people grunted in agreement. I didn't bother rolling my eyes. It wasn't like Lennox was wrong. My behaviour mimicked that of a toddler in every shape and form. Biting back my satisfied grin, I climbed to my feet uneasily and stumbled backwards, shooting another weary glance behind my shoulder. My newly acquired friend was hunched over his chair, his body displaying clear signs of agony. If I was the toddler in this equation he was most definitely the grandfather.

"And you," Lennox said, pointing another finger at the nameless blonde, "get out too. You're not even supposed to be here."

The man made a face. It was amazing how quickly his pain seemed to fade away. "But I want to be."

"And I want you to get out. It seems as thought we've reached an impasse, although I don't have any doubts as to who will win."

The mystery man scowled before effortlessly standing over his desk. A smile, almost invisible to the naked eye, pulled at the corners of his mouth. He looked satisfied with the situation, almost as though there was some sort of secret buzzing around the room that only he had the ability to distinguish. I narrowed my eyes, almost managed to say something in an act of rebellion, but a heavy hand somehow snaked around my arm.

"Let's go."

I stared at my limb in revulsion, briefly glancing at the idiot – the chair-kicking grandfather – that dared to touch my body like he had the right to be called a friend. After all the bullshit he pulled? No, I was not inclined to consider him as anything but a nuisance. Grabbing the chair for support, I threw my shoulder back in an attempt to rid myself of his grimy little fingers.

"I can leave the room by myself," I spat out, frowning when a particularly rough jolt of pain shot through my head. For a moment I felt like I was going to puke.

"You're not even standing straight."

A few people chuckled uncomfortably. The scowl that was once plastered across Lennox's face returned with a vengeance. He gestured towards the door again, his wrist jerking roughly at the movement. " _Outside_."

I tried to move forward again, but found that despite my previous attempts to dislodge his arm, my newly acquired "nuisance" was somehow pulling at it again, heaving me towards the doorway without a care in the world. Grumbling angrily under my breath, I shoved the remainder of the paper I had previously ripped in half into my pocket. I didn't bother to resist his continual pulls and tugs any more. At this point, the nausea I was feeling had intensified to an all-new level. My head felt like it was about to crack open and give birth to some sort of demonic entity. It was pretty much unbearable.

"Stop," I managed to groan as soon as we hobbled to the hallway. The glare we had received from Lennox on the way out was sure to remain ingrained into my mind for a lifetime, but that did nothing to stop me from attempting to ditch the pretty blonde asshole once again.

"Not until you give me an apology."

My stomach lurched. A stab of pain echoed in my forehead like a church bell and I knew that was the only warning I would get. Covering my mouth with one hand and using all of the energy I could muster, I pulled away from my capture's grip and simply sprinted – hell, limped to the closest wall at what felt like the speed of bloody light. The next thing I knew the contents of stomach, most of which consisted of various forms of alcohol, had found its way onto the floor. From what I could gather the expression on the blonde's face changed from that point onwards. Rather than looking perpetually annoyed, he seemed to be fairly panicked.

Barely managing to wipe my mouth, I sent the man a tired, but pained glare. "Fuck off. I don't owe you anything."

The concern seemed to vanish in a heartbeat. "You got me kicked out –"

"You wanted to get kicked out," I wheezed before taking a deep, quivering breath.

"No."

His child-like refusal, the way he dragged out his whiny little "no", was the only affirmation I needed. Snorting weakly, I leaned heavily on the wall, resting my cheek against the cold, concrete blocks, wishing the ache in my head and stomach would go away. "Why show up to a meeting you're not even supposed to go to in the first place then?"

I only received a blank stare.

"Because you _want_ to? Yeah, that's pretty fucking smart."

"You didn't want to be there either," he said in a rush, the words blurred by what sounded like some sort of frustration, the kind that made thinking logically completely impossible.

I looked away, my eyes squeezing shut in order to fight off another onslaught of pain. "I didn't have a choice."

"You have… _legs_ ," he managed to day with difficulty. "You could have easily left the room."

" _Mandatory_ ," I gagged, hacking up another mouthful of bile and alcohol. "The meeting was mandatory."

He stared at me with an appalled expression. "That's a reason not to go."

I tried to move away from that wall, but at this point it was one of the only things keeping me standing. Scowling, I met his stupid gaze with an appalled expression of my own. "Do you not know what the word _mandatory_ means?"

"I'm not a fan of the English language."

"Oh, really?" I said, my voice cracking when another echo of pain shot throughout my body. I groaned and slid right down to the floor; virtually sitting right in the pile of vomit I had created only moments before. It was amazing how I could so easily return to a vulnerable state. I just wanted to go home.

He didn't answer. I flinched when I felt his stupid little hand touch my shoulder. "Maybe."

"For God's sake, go away," I grumbled weakly, swatting a hand in his direction. "I don't even know you."

"The name is Sides," he said before attempting to pull me to my feet.

A deranged laugh almost popped out of my mouth. What was with all of the ridiculous names around here? Did everyone on the military base suddenly decide to operate under new secret identities? Code names? Whatever the case, it was simply outrageous and absolutely unsuitable to the environment. Lennox was already weird enough. 'Sides' was a completely different story. Did a computer program select his name for him? Was he trying to be edgy? Either way, it was really, _really_ dumb.

I fought back. "I didn't say that I _wanted_ to know you."

"You need help. Someone your size shouldn't be expelling so much…fluid."

I ignored his previous statement. "Or your name. I definitely don't want to know your stupid name."

"Stop being difficult."

"Stop ignoring me," I snapped. "I said to leave me alone, but apparently you don't understand the concept."

"I understand the concept just fine," Sides replied, once again forcing me to stand to my feet. "I'm just not listening."

My mouth popped open silently. "What the hell do you want from me?"

"An apology."

This man had to be one of the worst humans to ever exist in the entire history of the Earth. Sides, whatever his name really was, had to be a psycho. There was no other logical reason for his behaviour. The absolute randomness of the situation was too much to handle.

Another shot of pain travelled throughout my head. My hands flew up to clutch my head faster than I could even think. " _For what?_ "

He looked at me with an expression filled with surprise. "You don't remember?"

That was when I actually laughed. Of course this was bound to happen. " _No!_ I don't remember anything! Have we met before? Are you some long lost cousin from a different country or a bloody past life? Feel free to let me know at any time because right now I would _really_ like to get back to puking all over the floor!"

Sides recoiled. "You really don't remember? Nothing at all?"

" _No._ "

"But you – "

"I have a hangover. I'm drunk. If there's anything you must understand about the English language, it's those two things."

For some reason he seemed suddenly very disappointed. "But –"

"Holy hell," I managed to say before managing to return to the wall once again. "Do you ever stop? Ever?"

"You…puked…all over me."

I met his hilariously confused gaze before sucking back a distraught laugh. "That's what's got your panties in a twist?"

"It was disgusting!"

"Don't go bar hopping then. There's always a risk."

He looked like he was suddenly going to combust and catch on fire. It was clear to me that there was more he wanted to say. The problem? There was no way in hell Sides was going to say it. If I didn't feel like rolling around on the floor and dying, I'd likely try to pry it out of him, but at the moment that activity was a lost cause. Sure, a part of me wanted to know what I had done to completely piss him off, but now I was at peace with never knowing at all. All I wanted was to sleep and consume an obscene amount of medication at this point.

"Just go away. You've gotten what you wanted."

His eyes narrowed. "You never said –"

"I'm not going to apologize for something I don't remember doing," I managed to spit for what felt like the hundredth time, "especially for something you chose to participate in. You likely got me fired, so from my point of view you're only going uphill from here."

"That wasn't my intention."

I suppressed another weak belch. "What did you think would happen? You don't interrupt a high-class military meeting without some sort of punishment."

Sides still appeared to be frustrated, but the flicker of confusion in his gaze was almost too much to bear. "You're not angry?"

I met his eyes and wiped my mouth. My voice sounded incredibly weak, even to me, which was saying something. " _I don't care._ "

It was clear that he didn't believe a word that I was saying, which was really fine with me at the end of the day. What else was he supposed to think? If some ridiculous drunken woman puking all over the floor somehow told me that she didn't care about anything, I wouldn't be inclined to believe her either.

"So you're just going to stay there on the floor? By yourself?"

The glare I sent him was lethal.

A scowl stretched across Sides' mouth, "fine."

And with that, the blonde moron with the stupid name slithered back down the hall into the hellish abyss he somehow crawled out of in the first place. For some reason I knew that wasn't the last time I would see him. There was too much he wanted to say; there had to be some other reason behind his ridiculous and immature behaviour, otherwise my faith in humanity would severely collapse. I couldn't take any more stupidity.

Despite the emotions and thoughts flowing throughout my head, I remained standing in the hallway, my body quivering with the need to simply shut down. Sighing and pinching the bridge of my nose, I tugged my phone out of my back pocket, briefly reaching out for the closest wall to remain standing upright. The number I dialled was scarily automatic. I would never contact David after the bullshit we both experienced last night, so there was really only one other person I could call.

At this point I honestly hated myself.

I heard an angry symphony of noises, static, and shuffling when my call finally went through. Moving closer to the wall, I pressed by forehead against the cold surface and waited for Andrew to say something. His brain was probably still scrambled from last night.

"Joe."

The way he said my name was almost heartbreaking. There was an apology that existed in the syllables, one that should have been coming from my lips instead of his own. I knew that I was a pain in the ass – a selfish one at that – and I was only going to make shit worse, but I didn't know who else I could turn to.

"I need your help," I said, covering my mouth with a hand as a precautionary measure.

A sigh crackled throughout the speakers. "I'm on my way."

* * *

 _A/N:_ Hello, world! It's been awhile, but here's an update just in time for Christmas! This chapter is another one of my favourites, so I really hope that all of you enjoy it!

~IronEclipse


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